Dealing With It: His Unquenched Passion
by Phoenix Hoshika
Summary: ...Frodo was careful about these things. No one would ever know his secret passion.


Standard disclaimers apply.

Dealing with it:

His Unquenched Passion

        Frodo sat in the back room of Bag End in a comfortable rocking chair. He sat thoughtfully smoking his pipe in one hand as he rocked with the other on a clay jar of ale. Then suddenly he heard the door open. He jolted from his seat emptying the pipe then hid it under a stack of blankets. Quickly he ran and opened all the windows in the room violently fanning the smoke out of the room. He then grabbed up the jar and quickly downed the contents and threw empty jar into the bushes outside. His face flushed red and his cheeks puffed out as if he was going to vomit, but he took a deep breath. Wobbly he went to the windows closing them as quickly as he could. Turning to sit back down in the rocking chair he found himself walking to the door instead. Everything seemed to be a fuzzy haze as he wobbled across the room. 

        "Frodo? Frodo?" He heard a voice calling but he did not answer. His cheeks puffed out again and his eyes rolled back in his head. Taking one more step forward he passed out square in the middle of the room. Two minutes and three seconds, his best time for cleaning the room. Bilbo would never know his young cousin was smoking pipe weed and drinking ale until he passed out unless he told him or someone else did, but Frodo was careful about these things. No one would ever know his secret passion.

~*~

Chapter One:

        It was a bright clear day. Frodo sat out under a stout small oak with a book lying in his lap. He looked up at the sky not interested in the reading that he had come out to do and by the look on his face made it quite evident that he was longing for something else. Something to relieve the stress he felt. Something that would help him get over his social inadequacy. Something that would make him feel good about being alone on such a bright fine day while others went about their business laughing, playing or tending their gardens. He wanted something to make him feel complete. 

        It used to be that he could pick up a book and read for hours and put it down again feeling quiet satisfied with how he had spent his time, but that was when he was quite content to be left alone, but now things have changed. Lately he's been wanting to get out more and socialize, but found himself soon cast out of conversations if he were ever let in. Many of the other Hobbits often referred to him as "Young Moonshine" when they thought he couldn't hear them or wasn't paying attention. They believed him to be like his cousin Bilbo, who was well known for being a queer Hobbit, apt to trod off into danger, or at least that is how they saw it. Frodo usually flipped off their comments and continued on about his business. He thought his cousin Bilbo was a great Hobbit. If he did end up being cracked just like him, Frodo would be quite pleased with himself. Despite the pride he felt being related to such a great Hobbit Frodo was starting to crave more and more the social acceptance from those very same ones, but it didn't take long for that craving to end. It soon became quite evident that no one would tolerate him and he could barely tolerate them. Still, he felt a bit lonely. Though Bilbo was not away on some adventure he had taken to locking himself in his study writing about his adventures or reading old books and studying wrinkled maps. "Perhaps, later my boy." Would be the answer he would receive from his old cousin when ever asked about going on an outing with him. At meals was the only time they spoke, but the conversation seemed to have been growing dry at least on Frodo's end.

        Rolling his eye Frodo looked up through the green thick leaves of the tree at the peeping sun. Noon was coming. Closing the book Frodo cast it to the side. Reaching into his jacked he pulled out a carefully folded brown cloth and slowly opened it. Inside was a small wooden pipe. Reaching into his jacket again he pulled out a few crumpled leaves of pipe weed. After carefully lighting the substance he took a puff, slowly exhaling the smoke in perfectly round tiny balls. Calmly Frodo continued to smoke as he looked dreamily up at the sky. Reaching to his right side he then caught hold of brown sack, opening it he pulled out a rather large bottle of Brandy and begin to drink. Though he did so leisurely the bottle was soon empty and Frodo sat with a glaze over his eyes, his thirst only partially satisfied. Putting his left hand behind him he reached into a notch in the tree and pulled out another large full bottle. Blowing the last of the smoke from his lungs he sat the pipe down empty and begin drinking again. The pipe weed always proved a relaxing past time for Frodo, but the drinking relaxed him even more. It loosed his senses and even gave him a feeling of invulnerability, but he wasn't seeking strength from the spirits at this time he was just seeking relief from the stress he felt at the moment, a stress that seemed to come often and became a faint memory only while he was smoking and drinking. 

        Today he was supposed to meet with his cousins from Buckland, two to be exact. None of his relatives ever bothered to contact him after his parents died. Frodo's family was never particularly out going. They were too busy working the river for the night's supper. Usually the hard working couple was back from the river by sunset, but that day's fishing had proved slow so they stayed on the water into nightfall. It was pitch black when Drodo caught a bite. The fish was strong and judging by its strength must have been very large. 

        "I've got a bite," he called out excitedly to his wife, who was sitting in the opposite end of the boat. "It's a big one!" He said struggling to reel in the catch. The line was strong and wouldn't break against the powerful creature; an expense to the Buckland Baggins that proved it's worth time and time again, but this night it would prove to be their ruin. The line jerked forward as the fish struggled against the hook and for a moment Drodo thought he saw the water flash with a faint light. Ignoring it he continued to struggle against his prey. Permela looked up surprised and made a foolish mistake in her excitement she stood up. The boat rocked swaying in the water and as it did so the fish yanked hard in a last attempt to escape. The boat tipped over throwing the two hobbits into the water. 

        There was no reason why either of them should have drowned, they both could swim (an oddity among most hobbits), but the fishing line was loose in the water and as Drodo attempted to swim to the surface he found himself becoming tangled in the line. It was becoming tighter and tighter; the creature he mistaken for a fish was still caught on its hook. Hurriedly trying get the line from around his shoulders he managed to pull it up to his neck. Just as he did the animal swam forward pulling the line taunt around Drodo's neck. Desperately he grasped at the cords to keep them from cutting into his neck. Permela was at the surface but could see a trace of her husband. She frantically called out his name then went back under to find him and she did. It was too black to see but she knew she had found him when she swim into a curly head of hair, but something was wrong. Feeling her way she realized that the fishing line somehow ended up around his neck and was choking him. Swimming forward she found the creature that was still caught on the hook. It was an eel. The creature was trashing about wildly and she couldn't get near it. Pulling at the line with all hear strength it tore into her hands. Despite her bleeding hands she found new strength. Swimming up to the trashing eel she smacked it hard. The panicked animal became angry and sent an electric current through the water that shocked both hobbits into unconsciousness and in their sleep they drowned.

        The next morning patrollers found their bodies floating close to the riverbed. Frodo was minding the small garden in his family's yard when he hard a commotion and saw droves of people heading to the river. Putting aside his choir he followed them. What he saw when he got to the river devastated him, though he appeared calm. His breathing only slightly quickened in the horror of seeing his father and mother dead.

        "Drodo and Permela were the most excellent swimmers in all of Buckland" He heard a hobbit say.

        "Yes, it makes how they drowned a tale that needs to be told." Another hobbit responded.

        A few who were aware of Frodo's presence and heard the comments gave him sideway glances full of suspecion. At that moment Frodo darted away back home hiding himself in a secret barrow that he dug and cried himself to sleep. All that day there were callers at his door looking to question him about his parents' sudden death. He seemed the likely culprit, being known to be a wayward child. 

        "If you steal you kill." An old hobbit woman commented amongst a group of gossipers. "I wouldn't put it past him." Groans and nods of agreement from the group followed. 

        Frodo came out of the hole late at night and wearily through himself into his bed. The next morning he was awaken by a knock on the door. Two constables stood there tall and grim. This alarmed Frodo and his eyes grew large and darted from one to other. 

        "We just have a bit of questioning for you lad." One of them said. Frodo's eyes continued to look nervously upon the two police as he reluctantly let them in. While they questioned him a crowd had gathered outside the Baggins' home awaiting the out come. It was only after Frodo was openly grieving for his parents that they two constables offered their condolances and felt a sting of guilt burning in their hearts for not doing so in the first place and for treating him like a criminal. They existed the house shamefaced leaving Frodo curled up on the floor sobbing silently. 

        "Well?" A male hobbit asked from the center of the group.

        "He's grieving really bad. You all should just go home and make nothing of the incident for no more than what it was an accident." The first constable out the door answered.

        "Go on. Go home!" His partner urged. Those who thought that the young Frodo had committed a crime went away disappointed and those that were hoping the rumors were not true or paid no mind to the rumors wanted to meet with him and offer their condolences but were shooed away. 

        That night Frodo's home remained visitor less. He sat on his bed listening to the emptiness of the small hole. "Mother… Father…" Frodo, whispered in the candle lit room. He bowed his head as a single tear spilled from his eyes. He sniffled rubbing his face as more followed. Then there was a slight knock at the door. 

        "Who is it," Frodo called. There was no answer. "Who is it," He asked again walking to the door.

        "Your old cousin Bilbo." He heard a low whisper say. 

        His face lit up and immediately he opened the door and threw his arms around the old hobbit.

        "Bilbo," he cried. "They're gone."

        "I know my boy, I know," Bilbo said stroking his hair. 

        A little while later they both sat in his room. Bilbo on a small stool across from Frodo who was sitting on his bed with his legs folded under him. Frodo told Bilbo everything that happened.

        "Well, you better come live with me no lad," Bilbo responded. "It just won't do with you here on your own moping about. You'll be much happier in Hobbiton at Bag End." Bilbo then stood up and stretched. Frodo sat silent. He was overjoyed by the offer. An expression of relief was upon his face and he was at a loss for words. 

        "Don't just sit there staring my boy. Get to packing. We're leaving tonight. No need for all of Buckland to know about in the morning." And with that Frodo got up still speechless and quickly begin packing. "No need to bring the house with you lad," Bilbo said once Frodo had packed his sack full. "Bring your particular belongings, but don't worry for need. I'll be taking care of you from now on. Come now let us leave, before the Buckland busy bodies stir and start their business of spread rumors," he said putting his arms around the young hobbit and ushering him out the door.

        Frodo sat still looking up at the empty sky with the second jar sitting empty between his legs. "What could these cousins want," he thought. Guesses that they would probably prod him about his parents' death were foremost in his mind. He was to meet them in that spot in a little while. Figuring they would soon be arriving he hide the bottles inside the tree to retrieve them later and put his pipe away. A few minutes later he heard two voices calling out to him.

        "Oi, Frodo?"

        "Oi, cousin are you here?"

        Frodo stood up and saw two familiar hobbits.

        "Merry! Pippin!" He called out excitedly.

        "Oi!" Pippin called out again as Frodo ran up to meet them. He greeted the both with one big hug.

        "It's good to see you." Frodo said as hugged them. 

        "Yes, it has been a while Merry said."

        "I would have long since come to see you, but my parents said I was too young to go tramping off to Hibbiton alone." Pippin snorted. 

        "I would have been here sooner too, but…" Mary's voice trailed off. He didn't want to say it but his mother was among the crowd that thought Frodo might have killed his parents and thus forbid him to see his cousin saying he was a bad influence even if he hadn't murdered them. His father however had more faith in the young hobbit, but did not challenge his wife who had recently passed away.

        "I understand." Frodo said putting a comforting hand on Mary's shoulder.

        "Well, come on. We have some catching up to do. Let's pay a visit to the Green Dragon." Pippin piped in eager to go and have a drink with his older cousin.

        "You're too young to drink." Merry said. "You're mother told me not to let you drink."

        "Oh, come on! She isn't around and what's one drink going to harm?" Pippin protested.

        "Ok, just one." Merry said giving in.

        "Did I ever tell you that you're my favorite cousin?" Pippin asked putting his arm around Merry.

        "When you get what you want." Merry replied as the Hobbits walked off together.

~*~

A/N: Ok! There it is the first chapter. I know I may have got his mother's name wrong among a few other little details, but I will come back to correct those mistakes later after some "research"

Hope you enjoyed it anyways. J


End file.
